The Missing English Notebook

"Where are you, Suku. Aval and tea are kept for you on the table." Grandma shouted across the room, calling for Suku. Suku, studying in class 4 was busy doing his homework. He had just come back from school, and it was uncharacteristic of him to miss his tea. Last week, he was made the class monitor. It would be a great embarrassment if he was caught with incomplete homework. Moreover, he had promised to meet his friends on the ground adjacent to the public library. The boys, after a game of football, would go and sit under the fan in the library. Mr. Prasannan, the Librarian, allowed the boys to come in and browse the books after the game, even with their muddy clothes.

"Jinto, did you complete the English essay on Mohenjo Daro?" It was clear that Lithesh was yet to begin the assignment.

"No, Lithesh, Sethu chechi said she will help me. I am waiting for her"

"What about you, Mr. Monitor? I suppose you would have completed and submitted it as well", Lithesh said in half-jest to Suku.

Suku became tense. He just realized that he has not only forgotten entirely about the assignment, but he has also forgotten to collect the English notebook from his teacher. He had submitted it for the previous assignment. He made a mental note that he had to collect his notebook the next day. He cycled back to his home, feeling a bit restless. He had to get the notebook somehow. 

After a very quiet dinner, he sat in the verandah with his grandma. His mother was busy cleaning the vegetables for the next day. His father was watching TV. They did not have cable, so he was watching a re-run of an old movie on the national broadcaster. The flickering light bulb made patterns of shadow on the veranda floor. A lizard was making merry on the insects that were drawn to the light. There was a light drizzle, and the raindrops made a steady noise, as they fell on the roof.  As Suku sat watching the lizard, Grandma hugged him tight. 

She said, "Do you know the story of kuttichathan?" She had this habit of telling some folk-lores to Suku during the evenings if he sat near her.

"They are complicated characters. They are revered by some and abhorred by others. They take pleasure in the sufferings of others. They move around during the night, and jump from one palmtop to the other, throwing off the pots kept for collecting toddy, sometimes even partaking some of it. They are a mischievous lot that enjoys moving things from one place to the other, without the knowledge of its owner. For instance, if I keep the broom by the well, they will move it to the roof-top. And if I keep my slippers by the steps, they would throw it across the road. They are most active during the time between 2 AM and 4AM. When I was a small kid, I had seen one standing on the window-sill, holding the railings with his pale-white hands, crouching down."

The silence was punctuated by the raindrops and the slight breeze, bringing mist along with it.

"How do we escape from them, grandma?" Suku was very anxious by now. He used the end of his shirt's collar to wipe off water from his face.

"Well, they are powerless if you chant the name of your favorite God. But you must pray with full devotion, only then will they be rendered powerless."

Suku was intrigued. As he lay down on the bed, next to grandma that night, all he could think of was the kuttichathan. He had seen some images of them in comic books, but had never heard these stories. As he tossed and turned in his half-asleep state, his thoughts were consumed by the mysterious creature. He felt as if he could hear someone jump from one coconut tree to the other, dropping the pot for toddy in the process. He could hear them moving the broom in their court-yard. Suddenly, he remembered that he had to collect his notebook from the teacher the next day. He gradually drifted off to sleep.

"May I come in, Sir? " Suku asked for permission to enter the staff-room. Mr. Krishnan, the English teacher was sitting by the window. He was poring over a book, scribbling something in another in between. There was a pile of books on his desk. Krishnan sir had joined the school recently, transferred from a school down south. He was a nice teacher, but every week they were given an assignment to write over the weekend. He wanted these young children to start writing creative content on their own and made them practice for the same. Although no one knew this in this school, he was an aspiring poet. But multiple rejections from publishers had made him doubt his abilities. He penned his thoughts at times, but made sure no one saw it. He kept it hidden, mostly in his books.

"Yes, Come in, Suku. I read the essay you wrote. You write well, but make sure you supplement your reading. I can give you some books to read over the weekend. Return them to me next week."

"Thank you, Sir. I am here to collect my notebook. The one you corrected. "

"Didn't you already collect it?"

Mr. Krishnan became stiff as Suku came closer to the pile of books. He had scribbled a poem on a loose sheet and had hidden it between the books. He suddenly remembered that it was inside Suku's notebook that he had kept it. As Suku was examining the names on the books one by one, Mr. Krishnan also started to move the books around. He should get hold of the book before Suku. His thoughts raced ahead, before his limbs could keep pace with them. "These kids would call me names if they read my poem", he thought. Suddenly he remembered something and told Suku, "Suku. I remember Vimal had taken your notebook. You were absent that day, and he said that he would give it to you."

"Vimal, where is my English notebook?" Suku asked Vimal, during the interval between the classes.

"I remember collecting it from the teacher, let me check my bag," Vimal told Suku, and started searching his bag. As he was searching, he realized that he had kept a letter for Devika, their classmate inside Suku's book. He had planned to give it to Devika after school. Now he needed to get the book before Suku. One by one, he removed all the books from his bag, but could not get Suku's book. This made him even more nervous. If anyone saw the letter, he would be made a laughing stock of the class, and worst of all, Devika would never speak to him again. He saw a folded paper near the corner of his bag. He sighed in relief. It was the letter, but the English notebook was yet to be found.

"Suku, I had given it to your mother last week. I had come to your house on the way to  Mukundan's shop."

"Are you sure? Mom did not tell me anything." Suku was not convinced

"I am sure, man. Remember you had gone to Sureshettan's house for his brother's marriage. Your grandma gave me some jackfruit chips as well, saying it was the first jackfruit of the season."

Suku remembered eating the jackfruit chips the previous week. His grandma has said the same thing to him as well, while she fried the jackfruit pieces.

"Amma, did Vimal drop a notebook here with you? I need it for my assignment"

"Yes, he had come last week. I have kept it over the table in my room", Mom answered from the courtyard. She was drying out the nutmeg seeds, and its skin, spreading them over a mat. As she was moving the seeds over the mat, she remembered something. She used to save a small portion of the income from her 2 goats without her husband's knowledge. Ever since she lost her job in the cashew factory, it was difficult to make ends meet for them. She wanted to buy a gold bangle for her cousin's wedding, but her husband would not approve. She had noted down the money required for the bangle, and how much more would be needed on a page inside the book. She rushed inside. She had to get the book before Suku.

Suku and Mom searched the room, but could not find the book. Now, Mom was really tensed. Had her husband found out about it? She had to think hard. Where did she keep the book? As she and Suku continued their search, grandma called out from the verandah, " Can you make some tea for me? I am feeling hungry." Mom went to the kitchen and started to boil some water. As she opened the container for sugar, she saw a piece of paper sticking out. She pulled it out, and a sense of calm came over her. It was this note that she was searching all this time, while Suku was searching for his notebook. She could hear Suku moving the table in the other room. He was still searching for his book

"Grandma, would Kuttichathan fancy a notebook?" Asked a visibly tense Suku, as he lay on the bed with Grandma. He had to submit the assignment in a couple of days, and he could not even find his notebook.

"Yes, Dear. They will take anything and move it around. They just want to see you unhappy and tense, searching for your missing things. Finally, you may get it from the most unexpected places, or you may not get it at all."

Suku turned around and took in a deep breath. He could not understand why these creatures wanted to enjoy his misery.

"Chetta, some onions, some chilly. 1 Kg sugar and 1 pack of papadom", Suku instructed the shop-keeper, Mukundan. Suku stood there, holding the grocery bag in one hand and the pillar of the shop. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, and added, "1 notebook as well." His nose was assaulted by a cacophony of smells- dried fish occupied one corner, while dried roots and spices jostled for space at another. Sugar, turmeric, chilly powder occupied their positions in plastic bags along the edges of the wall, while fresh smelling vegetables were kept prominently near the door.

Mukundan weighed the sugar, chilly and onions, and wrapped it in a sheet of paper. He held the paper in his hand and rolled it around to make an inverted cone. Then, he tied it up with a small piece of coir rope. He put the items, one after the other into Suku's bag and said, "That will be Rs. 120. Also, you owe me 230 from the previous week. I will come tomorrow to collect it."

Carrying all this he reached home and kept the items on the table in the kitchen. He shouted over to his mom who was in the yard, tending to the goats, "Mom, have kept the items on the table. Mukundan chettan will come tomorrow for the money." As he glanced over the items, he noticed the paper covering his provisions. Chilly, as well as onions, were covered in a familiar-looking paper. He opened the parcel quickly and kept the onions and chilly on the table. It seemed to be his handwriting on the paper used to cover the items. He flipped the page over and saw the writing - "Suku M, Std 4B, English Assignment Notebook"